


The Interview

by Sensha_do



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Angst, Crime, Drama, F/F, Mystery, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sensha_do/pseuds/Sensha_do
Summary: "Tragedy ages us all, as if it is a hand winding the clocks of our lives faster and faster. "Umi Sonoda sits down for an important interview.
Relationships: Minami Kotori/Sonoda Umi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> I think I say this for every pairing I write for, but I have struggled trying to make something for KotoUmi for a long time, and this is the result. I'm not sure it's anything close to what I thought it'd be. I tried to write in a different style, with a different kind of view point and delivery, and I hope that I've succeeded in keeping it interesting and entertaining for anyone who reads it. It springs from an idea I had outlined for myself years ago about a documentary crew following the LL girls, which I never got around to writing.
> 
> I'm not entirely sure if I plan on continuing this. For now it's a one shot, but I may use this same set-up for a series of related stories. Who knows? Not me! In any case -
> 
> Enjoy~

_The worst secrets are the ones/_

_that sit like spiders/_

_waiting to bite._

_-_ Toby Barlow, _Sharp Teeth_

* * *

_Piece 1: Little Bird_

When the introductions are over I motion to the table in the center of the room. It's not the most comforting thing - it's too utilitarian, the dull metal surface old and scratched - but this isn't a comforting time. Two metal chairs face one another from opposite ends of the long, rectangular table. I let the guest take a seat first, and then pull out my own. The fluorescent lights reflect hazily off of the table. Nothing to do about those either, not their glare or headache-inducing brightness. When she is seated, I point to the digital recorder on the table.

"You can start by stating your name." I nod, then press a button on the machine. A little red light above the button glows. "For the record, of course. Standard procedure."

The woman before me takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes, holds the breath for what I count - in my own head - to be ten seconds - and then she breaths out.

"My name is Sonoda Umi." she says. Her head is turned to the device on the table and she is speaking to it. Despite the situation, I almost want to laugh.

"Don't worry about being too direct towards the recorder. It'll hear you just fine as long as you speak clearly. This is going to be a long conversation, so it's best if you feel a bit more...natural." I offer a smile. "Though I understand that this is a difficult time for you."

The woman nods. She's young, in her mid-twenties, but the serious expression she wears ages her. Tragedy ages us all, as if it is a hand winding the clocks of our lives faster and faster. She resettles in her chair, holds her spine straight and her shoulders, obviously used to being in control of her body. I suppose, if anyone is supposed to have good posture, a professional athlete should. Her navy hair is neat and straight, shiny and healthy looking.

It really is a shame that her eyes carry the weight that they do.

She still looks very uncomfortable, all things considered. "Would you like something to drink before we begin? Water, coffee, tea?" I offer.

"I'd appreciate a cup of tea." She says, "If it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all." I say. I motion with my head to one of my co-workers standing in the back. The man leaves without a word and I turn back to Umi Sonoda.

"Where do I begin?" She asks me. Or maybe she's asking herself.

"Ultimately we need to get to the heart of that matter.'" I say. "The disappearance. But any kind of information that might help us to understand Kotori, or the situation, would be appreciated."

"Okay." Umi says. My coworker comes back and places a steaming cup of tea in front of the woman. The cotton thread of the teabag leans against the outside of the cup and the flavor tag dangles beneath it: _Mugi-cha._ "Thank you," she smiles up at the man. It's a small one, but it's the first time since I met her that she has smiled. She appears very genuine, very serious even about smiling. I make a little note to myself on the pad before me: _Not duplicitous. Trustworthy._

"So," I say. "Would you like to begin?"

Umi takes another deep breath. Another ten-count. Then a hardness, a determination, takes over her face. She folds her hands in front of her. "I know that it may not be relevant, but I think I should start with a story from our childhood. Mine and Kotori's."

* * *

"Kotori has always been someone who liked to have secrets." Umi begins. "Even if she had no _reason_ to want to keep something a secret."

She tells me a story first about when they were young. They'd been childhood friends, Umi Sonoda and Kotori Minami, friends for as long back as they can remember. They went to the same schools, lived in the same neighborhood, played in the same park together day after day in those endless childhood afternoons. Like all kids, they wanted to grow up a little too soon, and their games of pretend showed that. They'd play husband and wife.

"I was always the husband," Umi smiles ruefully. "But I didn't mind. Kotori she - uh - she made a great wife."

Or they'd play doctor and patient. Chef and restaurant manager. Hero and villain. Imaginary games where they were adults and had exciting adult lives. Climbing tall summer oaks in the park, or the castle of a jungle gym, they would play until the sunset burned the sky. An idyllic childhood, Umi confirmed.

"But what I meant was that Kotori always enjoyed having a secret double-life, even in these games. When she was my wife," Umi blushes very lightly. I ignore it out of respect. "She was also a ninja. When she was a doctor, she was also a tailor, and so on. It was never enough to be one thing. Maybe she just wanted options. Or maybe she liked the idea that there was something more to life than what we called ourselves, than what others could see. I don't really know. We never talked about it, and by the time we could talk about it, we were too old to be playing games of pretend anyway."

Umi takes a sip of the tea. I look over my notes while she does so, adjust my pencil skirt. It started riding up a bit. These chairs really are uncomfortable.

"Where was I?" Umi asks, then shakes her head to clear out the fog of nostalgia. "Oh, yes. Childhood. Kotori's mom was a principal where the two of us eventually went to high school. She always supported Kotori's dreams, her choice of school, her career. I suppose you've done your research on Kotori," Umi asks me.

"It's part of my job." I shrug. "She was - is," I correct myself when I see the pain flash across Umi's face. "a fashion designer. Fairly successful for a recent college graduate, already scored a job in the industry, and so on."

"Right. Kotori loves designing clothes and making them and modelling them, having them modeled - all of it. She always has."

"And you," I ask, my pen hovering over the paper. "Have you always liked athletics? Sports? We just want to round out the interview, you know? Get all the info we can."

"I suppose you can say that. Early in my life I practiced traditional archery at my family dojo. It came with a very rigid, rigorous sense of dignity and discipline and honor. Later in life, I found those same qualities in other sports too."

"Is that why you became a professional triathlon athlete?"

"They take the most out of me, you can say. All of my training and discipline, my energy and strength."

"I see," I gesture. "Please, go on."

Umi closes her eyes for a moment as if to reconnect where she had been in her tale to where she was going. "In high school, when we had been done playing pretend for years, Kotori still liked having her little secrets. Something of a...double life."

She recounts another tale to me, a short one. It was in their second year of high school when Kotori stopped walking home with Umi after school. They'd always walked home together, but one day Kotori excused herself, and for a span of a few months, she didn't join Umi again on her way home.

"I had no idea why. Every day it seemed like there was a different excuse - she had to meet with a teacher, or she was helping to make costumes for the drama club. Things like that. And I believed her." Umi looks down at her folded hands. Sighs. "I always have - even...even now, when, maybe I - well, I still do."

She continues with her story. "One day I had to go shopping after school. Kotori wasn't with me, so I took my time. It was a busy afternoon. Salarymen were leaving their jobs, other students had left school, people were going in and out of shops. It was nice to be in the center of the crowd, all of those people doing normal things and living normal lives. I felt very...content. The only thing that tainted it was that Kotori wasn't with me. I wished that she was by my side, like she has always been."

"I remember that evening very clearly. I left the shop I had gone to. Across the street was a maid cafe. Not...not my kind of place." she blushes again. From what I know of Umi Sonoda - from interviews, from press releases - she has a low tolerance for things that are, in her own words, _shameful_. "But a flash of gray caught my eye. A familiar gray. A gray I loved."

Kotori Minami. That's what Umi had seen. Her friend, Kotori Minami, as a waitress in a maid cafe.

"She was beautiful, of course." Umi swallows thickly. "I could tell she'd made the uniform - I was sure she made it, anyway. It was a long black piece with a frilly white apron. I think there was a bit too much cleavage showing. A-at least for my taste. But she was beautiful in it. And yet - I was struck with this awful sadness. _Why didn't she tell me?_ I wondered. _Why keep it a secret?_ People passed by me in that cramped marketplace but all I could do was stand there and watch her through the clear window curtsying, bowing, taking orders and smiling at customers. I think I stood there too long - another young girl who worked at the cafe came and flashed a flyer in my face, tried to get me to go in. I couldn't, though. Kotori had kept it a secret and - I just couldn't. I left, then. I thought of nothing else but Kotori on my way home."

Umi takes another sip of her tea, and when she pulls it away from her mouth she stares at the amber liquid like it is the distillation of the evening sun that shined on the windows of that maid cafe. She recounts the rest of the story. "It took me many days to gather up the courage to ask her about it. We were standing at the school gate, about to separate for the day and I just blurted it out. _Do you work in a maid cafe, Kotori?_ , I asked. _You found out?_ She asked me. She looked ashamed, like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar."

Umi looks me straight in the eyes. "I thought then and there to drop the question. She seemed so crestfallen that I had found out. That I took that secret from her. That I might be judging her. She held one arm with the other and looked at the ground with a sad smile. _I saw you a few days back. I wasn't looking - I wasn't looking for you, but...but why didn't you tell me? I don't care that you have a job, but_ \- but Kotori just shook her head. _I don't know_ , she said, _There's something nice about having a part of my life just for myself."_

Umi goes quiet again. I give her a few moments and look over my notes. We have the recording, sure, but part of my job is about honing my intuition, and these notes here help me. _Secrets_. It's a big word, circled even bigger a thousand times. The air in the room is chilly, at least for me, but Umi doesn't seem affected by it. Maybe athletes just run at a higher temperature or something. I've interviewed a few in my time, sure, but I guess never in the winter.

"So where does that leave us now?" I look to Umi.

"I think I can begin to tell you what you're looking for."

* * *

Kotori went to college. Umi didn't. That's where this story begins.

Despite this otherwise major difference, Umi tells me that they started a relationship following their high school graduation. A romantic one. Kotori lived in an apartment off-campus - she was going to school for fashion and design - and Umi spent many days and nights there as she began her own career as a professional athlete.

"Those days were often very tough." Umi says. "I woke up early and trained until late at night. My body would hurt in so many different ways by the end of each day. And Kotori always had her head buried in school work. Her apartment was like one big craft shop. You couldn't take a step without walking into a roll of fabric or a pin cushion. But I knew I could walk into that apartment each night and wrap my arms around Kotori and just...just... _be_ with her. And I'm convinced. No, I _know_ she felt the same comfort from that."

This is the first time I worry that the otherwise serious and controlled woman before me is going to cry. She rubs at her amber eyes, sniffles a bit. I search my pockets for a tissue, but I come up empty.

"If you need a moment," I offer, "Please, feel free to take your time."

"No," she shakes her head. "I'm alright. Thank you. Let me go on."

Umi continues. She says that those days, hard as they were, were never overbearing. There was a reliable rhythm to their lives, and not enough time or energy in a day - for either of them - for those secrets Kotori seemed so drawn to.

"Around the same time that Kotori graduated and got a job offer, I was beginning to professionally compete. Our time together was cut dramatically. We saw each other every time we could, but it was, well, it was hard. I loved - " she coughs, "I love Kotori. Truly, I do. It's just that I might be in Okinawa, say, working on my swimming, and she might be in Hokkaido, meeting with a client to develop a new fashion line. Skype was never enough. Our short time together...to me...to her...it was never enough."

"I think this is when Kotori fell back into her old habit of _secrets_."

Umi tells me that the company Kotori worked for was centered in Tokyo, and that she was there whenever she wasn't traveling for work.

"It's a nice place, her office. There are these huge glass windows that let in a ton of light. Kotori's office - I spent a good amount of time there, when I wasn't training - it overlooked a small park. We would take walks in that park, or eat lunch together. She always seemed so happy there, even during stressful times. Wonderfully happy. That's all I ever wanted for her. That happiness."

She tells me that Kotori, busy as she was at work, found herself with a lot of free time. Umi was not always around due to her training. and the friends they shared had their own lives and careers. Kotori started a small online business making clothing for people - budding idols, cosplayers, and so on.

"I thought it was a great idea. Never once did I see Kotori upset when it came to designing or creating clothing. That she could do it outside of her job too, and make money off of it? I was excited for her, and she seemed so...so hopeful about it all." A smile lights up her face. I look away, at my notes, but it's mostly out of embarrassment. There's a kind of purity that's difficult to face head on when you're not a part of it. Umi's love for Kotori is made of that purity. I could see it in every look, hear it in every word.

"So that's where all of this begins." Umi says. The smile is gone and she is back to the seriousness she came in with. The gravity of the situation settles on me. I hold up a finger and check the battery on the recorder. We still have lot of power left, so I gestured with my hand for her to continue. "Not long ago I had a series of triathlons in Europe: Sicily, Greece, Spain, France - one after another after another. All in all, I'd be gone for a few months. It was the longest I've ever been away from Kotori. It broke my heart to leave, but she was so excited for me to prove myself out there. I remember, the night before I left, we walked a route along Tokyo Bay. She clung to my arm so tightly...I almost didn't leave the next day. Really, I had to fight that discipline I'd built up my whole life to do so."

"We kept in touch that time over the phone, through video calls, We talked about our days and whatnot. I remember thinking that she wasn't bringing up her side business much, if at all, but then - well, it _was_ a side business. She had a successful job so I figured that perhaps she had placed it on hold."

"But she didn't, did she?" I ventured. I wasn't sure where Umi was heading. We here at the office didn't have enough info on Kotori at all, despite everything. This is exactly what this interview was for.

"She didn't." Umi shakes her head. "I did not learn this until it was too late. I would've done what I could to stop her, to protect her. You...you have to understand, I would've - I would, I _will_ do whatever it takes to protect her."

"I understand," I say. I think again about asking if she wants a break, but Umi looks to be continuing her story and I don't want to stop her. I do understand, though. I think anybody truly in love understands that desire, that burning ache and itch, that pain to keep their loved ones safe and sound. It is a force that has pushed humans forward for millennia.

"Kotori told me that she didn't know who the people were, not in the beginning, at least. And in any case, many of her side-business clients were anonymous. She had a request earlier that month to make a cocktail dress for a client for some nightclub, and it seemed as if the client loved the piece. She put in another order not long after and said she was recommending Kotori's business to her friends." Umi was pouting in distaste, as if she were reliving this moment again and again, hoping to tell Kotori not to do - well, whatever it is Kotori was going to do.

"That same client began ordering not just cocktail dresses and gowns, but suits too - men's suits. And even with the workload from her actual job, she was getting these quality pieces done quickly and with her excellent craftsmanship. The clients paid very well too - not that Kotori was itching for money, but it was notable."

Umi explains that this went on for the duration of her European tour, but that Kotori didn't tell her any of it until later. Until, it turns out, it was too late.

"After making so many pieces for these clients, Kotori received an invitation to, what they said, would be a place where she could see her work on the people who bought them. It came in the mail, in a fancy envelope, and it was a gathering - she wasn't sure for what, the invitation didn't say - in a well known, exclusive, lounge in Tokyo. She told me about this a few nights before the event was scheduled to take place."

"Was it out of the ordinary, clients being so forward with her?"

"Yes, I would say so. But - well, how could I tell her not to go? In a way, she was being complimented for all her hard work for these people. Maybe it was the opportunity she needed to open her own studio, her own major fashion company."

"So she went?"

"She went." Umi clenches her jaw. "I wish, more than anything, I could've been there with her. Maybe - maybe none of this..."

"Miss Sonoda - "

"I'm sorry." she shakes her head, blows out a sigh. "She went. She said it was glamorous. Beautiful women, many of them wearing her clothing, and wealthy men doing the same. They were drinking, smoking cigars, playing cards - it seemed to be a gathering of rich, beautiful people. I'm sure she was starstruck. I'm sure too that she was the most beautiful there."

Kotori spent most of that night sipping something slowly, speaking once in a while to women who would come over and thank her for their dresses. She wasn't sure why she was there, but really, with Umi not around, she didn't have anywhere else to be on a Saturday night.

"And then this man comes over. He's older, a bit grizzled, but in good shape for a man who appears to be in his sixties. He sits next to Kotori and tells her how the people who work for him - all of these people in the room - adore her work. He makes her an offer: he will pay her a considerable amount of money if she were to work for them full time. Design and make the clothing for all of the people in his company. _What do you do?_ She asked.

She said the man smiled widely, more widely than she'd ever seen anyone smile. _"We're in the business of protection"._

I swallow. I know where this is going. It's one of the few key pieces of the story, and the most alarming.

"They were -"

"Yakuza, yes." Umi says gravely. Her fists are clenched. She glowers into the empty tea cup. I want to offer her another, but Umi speaks again before I get the chance to cut in. "They were Yakuza. Kotori told me - she said that at the time, she didn't make the connection. Didn't get what the man meant by _protection_. By the time she did, it was much too late to back out."

Umi tells me how Kotori was so excited about the offer the next day during a phone call that she, Umi, didn't even let herself consider that anything was strange. She congratulated Kotori, told her do to what her heart desired, and Kotori almost cried from happiness. Her own business! Her own fashion lines, for beautiful, wealthy people. How could it get better?

"She quit her job not long after. I was back in Japan at the time - the half-way point in the tour gave me a few days of freedom to come home and visit. I helped her clean out her office. We had dinner that night at this restaurant with a beautiful view of Tokyo Tower. Kotori...she was just glowing with happiness. I didn't have a ring, not yet, but I nearly proposed that night." Umi swallows thickly. She stops speaking for a moment. When she begins again, her voice is strained.

"That was the last time I saw Kotori so happy in person. It was the second to last time I saw her in person at all."

I adjust myself in my seat. This is where things are going to escalate and I want to be prepared. Ready. I feel my heart beating faster, and for a moment, I feel strange at how invested I am. Then again, it's part of my job.

"She found out the day she started that they were Yakuza when, sitting in the office of the man who approached her at the party, she is offered cocaine at the same time she is offered a simple cup of tea."

"Cocaine?"

"Cocaine. Of course, she didn't take it. But she'd already negotiated her salary, signed some contracts. There was no way to back out, not now, not _safely_. She'd be working in this building a floor below the boss. She had her own staff and brand new equipment. But it came with shackles she was not prepared for."

"When this happened - she didn't tell you anything? Any of it?"

"No, not then. On our nightly video calls she would simply smile and say how great it was to be her own boss, to have her own clients and her own schedule. I suppose she was trying to protect herself, and to protect me. Maybe - maybe it was the effect of the computer screen, or of the distance, but I could not tell that the look behind her eyes was despair, was worry. I, who knew her best. Who loved her. I couldn't - I couldn't tell a thing."

Umi breathes through her nose. She pulls a tissue from her own pocket and she dots her eyes. When she finishes, she folds it up neatly and is back to a steadier voice.

"I made it home early after the final triathalon. Almost a week earlier than expected. I wanted to - to surprise her. I didn't know where her new office was, but at least I could go to the apartment when she was at work. I spent that day cooking a meal, cleaning the home, preparing myself to - " she bites her lip. "I had a ring, an engagement ring, in my pocket. I know we can't legally get married here in Japan, but symbolically I wanted to call her my own. I wanted her to know how much I loved her."

"She was late, though. Later than I thought she'd be. I called her, but she didn't pick up. I began to worry, of course. Pace around the apartment. Call on some of our friends. No one knew where she was or where she worked. I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I'd just spent months throwing myself through intense physical trials, but never did I feel more exhausted than during that wait."

"She got home after midnight. I remember the sound of the door opening, the knob shaking with her hand, and then slamming behind her. _Kotori!_ I called out, _Kotori, what took you so long? Are you alright?_ She didn't say anything. I heard her panting breath, her sniffles, her sobs. I ran to the entrance of the apartment and there she was c-covered in - covered in - "

"Covered in?" I was leaning forward in my seat without even realizing it.

"In _blood_. Her dress was splattered with it, her hands - her cheeks. I had no clue, no idea what might've happened. I almost fainted, my heart stopped. I didn't even let her speak before I was checking her for wounds, but it was clear, very clear after a few minutes, that it was not _her_ blood. I think that that made it worse. I wrapped my arms around her. Never - never in my life had I felt her tremble the way she did. Cry, so...so pitifully. I held her tighter and tighter and kissed the top of her head but she didn't stop crying. Not for hours."

Umi stops. She doesn't look at me; she hasn't in some time. I look over to my coworker and he brings in another cup of tea. In the mean time I got up to stretch my legs for a minute and let the story settle. When the tea is placed in front of her Umi seems to break out of her memory. She looks at me again, so broken that I myself look away to spare her my pity.

"She told me the whole story that night as I held her tight against my chest on the living room floor. The whole thing, from the beginning. But the important part was what happened hours before. Two or three Yakuza - it turned out that they were spies. Informants for the police, and the big boss, he found out that day. She said that everyone was called to a meeting, and - and there, the men where shot, point blank, right beside her. In front of her. Just killed on the spot like animals. And then she was warned. Warned not to say a thing _or else_."

A question sits on the tip of my tongue that I do not want to ask. Nonetheless I have to. I _have_ to. "She disappeared the next day. Do you think...do you think, Ms. Sonoda, that she is still alive?"

"She has to be." Umi looks me in the eyes as she says this, entirely serious. "I cannot accept any other truth."

"What happened the night of her disappearance?"

"I took her to bed. I remember stripping off the bloody clothing and laying her beneath the blankets, tucking her in. She, always so bubbly and sweet and soft - she looked so pitiful. So empty. When I locked up the apartment door and the windows, I slipped into bed beside her and held her again. She never stopped trembling. I...I can't get that feeling out of my skin. I feel like the whole earth quaked with her. She kept saying that _I_ was in danger, _me_. That she was putting me in danger by coming home. That she should've just - just...When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. Gone. I didn't feel her leave, I didn't hear the door, none of it."

"And that's it?"

"Her travel bag was gone. A photo of us, too, that was in the room. Truly I don't know any more than this. I'm hoping that...that by telling you all of this, maybe there's something you can do to help. I need her back. I need to know that she's safe and _alive_." Umi's voice breaks on that last word and I shut the cover of my notebook. My heart goes out to the woman, but there's nothing I can do for her. Not yet.

"Thank you for telling us all of this Umi. We'll do everything we can to find her. To help you keep her safe."

"Thank you."

She stands up. Even as she holds her body the way any athlete would, I can see the weakness overall. Her slightly sagging shoulders. Her slack hands. She is broken, but then, I don't know anyone who wouldn't be by what she has gone through. I go to press the button on the digital recorder to stop it when Umi says "Wait."

"Hmm?"

"This recording - do you think she can...are you going to use this in some way to try to find her? To reach out to her?"

"Yes."

"Then please, let me say one more thing."

I nod, and Umi moves close to the machine again, like she had been in the beginning of the interview. Her eyes are, somehow, both far away and determined. She is here, in the office, but she is not _here_ in spirit.

"Kotori, if you hear this, please tell me where you are.

Where are you, Kotori?

Kotori - _Where are you?"_

**Author's Note:**

> See - very different from my usual. I hope Kotori didn't seem OOC. I was driven to write her like this based on the way she acted in S1 - the maid cafe thing, the way she runs away at the end without saying anything to anyone, etc.
> 
> I really wonder what you readers might think about this one, so - 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Reviews, criticisms, and responses are all welcome!


End file.
